


Birthday Gift

by lfvoy



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-30
Updated: 2010-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:30:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lfvoy/pseuds/lfvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after their return from the Delta Quadrant, Admiral Janeway is the recipient of an unsettling, anonymous birthday gift. When she investigates its origin, she discovers that there are some possibilities too precious to lose entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Gift

**Author's Note:**

> _For Daniel, because I’m glad we didn't miss the opportunity._

She stopped cold when she saw the vase on her desk. The pink roses hadn’t been there when she’d left for the night, just a few hours before. Approaching slowly, Kathryn counted them. Someone had sent her a dozen roses for her birthday.

Someone obviously didn’t know her very well. She hated roses. She’d hated them ever since…Kathryn forced that train of thought back into her subconscious, knowing where it led and unwilling to follow. She didn’t want to remember. It had been hard enough to live through the first time, when it was actually happening.

The vase was right in the middle of her desk, surrounded by padds and tapes that had been pushed aside to make extra room. Sighing, she sat down and pulled it toward her, turning the vase to look for any indication of who had sent the flowers. After a moment, she found the card nestled in the leaves.

 _Our voyage together made my life complete._

It was unsigned, but it was enough. The anger was to be expected, but she was surprised by its strength, even after so much time had passed. If this was a practical joke, it was in very poor taste. And if it wasn’t…

She tapped out the comm code, her fingers moving in a pattern that was still familiar even if she hadn’t used it in a long time. The fingers of her other hand drummed on her desk, but the “awaiting connection” screen never wavered.

After a few moments, she cancelled the signal, disgusted, and tapped out another code. This time, her call was answered right away. Neelix’ yellow face brightened when he realized who was on the other end. “Admiral! Happy birthday! It’s good to see you!”

She didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Do you know where Chakotay is?”

“Chakotay?” He seemed surprised at the question.

“Yes. I’m trying to contact him but he isn’t answering his comm.”

“Admiral…?” Neelix’ expression changed. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

The Talaxian took a deep breath. “Captain Chakotay was aboard the _Hawke_ when it was destroyed at Retisia VIII four months ago. He was on his way to Starbase 74 to take command of the _Livingston_ , but…” he trailed off for a moment. “Everyone aboard the _Hawke_ was lost.”

“Yes, I know,” Kathryn murmured, struggling to cover her shock. She’d heard about the battle at Retisia VIII, of course. She just hadn’t realized that anyone she knew was aboard either of the two Starfleet vessels that had been destroyed.

“I’m sorry, Admiral. I thought someone would have told you.”

“Apparently not.” Her eyes fell on the flowers again. “Neelix, someone sent me a dozen roses for my birthday.”

“How very thoughtful! Do you know who it was?”

“I thought it was Chakotay…he always used to give me roses for my birthday. But if he was at Retisia VIII…” she shook her head. “I don’t know who else it could have been.”

Neelix appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Why don’t you call the florist’s shop and see if they can give you any information? Surely someone had to have placed the order.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

As she signed off, her mind was reeling. _Chakotay was dead._ They hadn’t spoken for a little over a year, and that time it had barely been civil. But she hadn’t wished this for him. He was a decent person, and had deserved a chance to live out his natural life…

It wasn’t until the tear fell on her hand that Kathryn realized that her eyes had welled up. Funny that she’d be so affected, even now. Clearing her throat and wiping her face, she reached for the card, turning it over to see which florist had supplied the roses.

* * *

“Oh, yes. I remember when he first came in to place this order. Five years ago, it must have been. A dozen fresh pink roses delivered to your office every year, unless he called and cancelled the delivery that year. He placed the order, and then called every year to cancel it. This was the first time he didn’t.”

Kathryn followed the elderly shop owner through rows of flowers. “Who was it?”

“I don’t remember very clearly.” The owner stopped, inspected a cluster of white carnations, and expertly snapped off a dying bloom. “A gentleman, though. When I said I thought he had a lot of nerve doing something so familiar as sending flowers to Admiral Janeway, he laughed and said he knew you.”

“He might have.” They walked by a row of tiger lilies. “Was he about two meters tall, with a tattoo on the left side of his face?”

“You know, that sounds right. I remember the tattoo, now that you mention it.” He laughed. “So he did know you.”

Her voice was very quiet. “Yes. He did.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, who was he?”

Kathryn sighed deeply as long-ignored memories crowded, uninvited, back into her conscious awareness. “Five years ago when he placed that order, he was my husband.”

* * *

She barely saw the sidewalk as she walked back to Headquarters. Why hadn’t Chakotay stopped the order altogether? It would have been far more convenient for him than remembering to call the florist every year. Surely he wouldn’t have wanted the reminder, any more than she did. Not after what had happened.

She’d permanently cancelled the order without explaining, despite the clear expression of curiosity on the florist’s face. Then she’d left, as quickly as she could, before the memories became too sharp and she lost her composure.

Kathryn shook her head slowly, trying to clear her mind as she walked through the door into her office. Her assistant looked up. “Admiral, the florist called after you left. He left a message when I said you hadn’t returned yet.”

“Thank you, Connors. Go ahead and put it through.”

The florist’s face appeared on her view screen. “Admiral, after you left my secretary discovered a file about your order. Since you had cancelled the order, I went ahead and opened the file. There was a message inside for you.” He paused. “The text version is attached. Come back by if you want the original. I’ll be happy to download it into a padd.”

The message, she realized, would be from five years ago when he’d first placed the order. They had been newlyweds then. Neither one of them had realized yet that their time and experiences on _Voyager_ were really the only things they had in common. If someone had suggested, five years ago, that their marriage would barely last three years, both of them would have scoffed at the idea.

But it had fallen apart.

And now he was dead.

Her fingers hesitated, shaking, over the touch pad. She knew herself well enough to know that, if she deleted the message unread, she would always wonder what it said. But if she read it, the memories she had so carefully held at bay would resurface in earnest.

Kathryn closed her eyes and sighed again. The memories had already resurfaced, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Opening her eyes, she activated the file.

>  _My dearest Kathryn,_
> 
>  _If you’re reading this, it means I’m no longer there to celebrate your birthday with you. Maybe it has been several months, or maybe just a few days. No matter how long it has been, I want you to have a happy birthday._
> 
>  _I hope we had a full lifetime together, but even if we didn’t, I want you to know that the years I had with you, both on_ Voyager _and after we returned to Earth, were the best years of my life. Nothing else could compare with the peace and joy I found through you._
> 
>  _The roses will continue for six more years unless you decide to cancel the order. That’s seven years, one for each we had aboard_ Voyager _. Please enjoy them, knowing that I cherished you as much as you cherished the sight and smell of fresh flowers in your ready room every day of that voyage._
> 
>  _Finally, Kathryn, please don’t be sad that I am no longer here to share the roses with you. I imagine it must be difficult right now, but your life is still before you and the best way you can honor my memory is to live it to its fullest, the way you always have. Nothing would bring me more joy than to know you’re still seeking happiness._
> 
>  _I’ll be watching over you and standing beside you during every step of the rest of your journey. Happy birthday, Kathryn._

The tears were flowing freely down her face now. She reached for a tissue and dried her face before standing up, taking the vase and the roses out of her office.

“Connors, I’m taking the rest of the day off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

The message light was blinking on her console when she walked into her house. She carefully placed the vase and the padd she’d picked up at the florist’s shop on a piece of furniture before crossing to the console and activating the message.

This time, it was a recording instead of a text message. The sight of Chakotay’s face brought a fresh rush of emotion. A corner of her mind noted that anger was only a part of it.

He was seated in an office, wearing his uniform. It still seemed odd to see pips on his collar rather than the clip he’d worn when serving aboard _Voyager_.

“You’re probably wondering why I didn’t cancel the order altogether,” he began. “I have to admit, Kathryn, that there are days I wonder the same thing.” He sighed. “But every time I start to do it, something stops me.”

Chakotay pushed up from the desk, pacing in the small room. “It’s been eight months since we’ve spoken at all, now, but I still wake up in the morning missing you. For a long time, I thought it was just emotional fallout from spending more than a decade seeing you every day, first as my captain and then as my wife. It’s normal to miss something that lasted so long. I’ve kept telling myself to hold on, that eventually the bad feelings will go away.

“But I realized something last night. Before we were lovers, we were friends. And that’s what I’m missing. That’s what hasn’t gone away. Our friendship, the personal and professional partnership, was a rare thing indeed; even you’ve admitted that. The mistake, I’m starting to understand, was trying to be more than close friends and colleagues.”

He sat down again and squarely faced the screen.

“I hope that one day, I’ll be able to say this to you in person. I think you’ll agree. But if you’re seeing this message, it means I never got the chance.” He leaned back, sighed again and raised his hand to his eyes in a familiar gesture. “Right now, things are too raw, for both of us. It isn’t the right time yet.

“The roses are a peace offering, Kathryn, my way of saying I’m sorry and that I wish we’d had the opportunity to heal. There’s nothing sadder than a missed opportunity. I don’t want to lose the chance to tell you that, in the end, I valued the time we spent together. I valued our friendship and partnership. I value you and the memories of the good times.

“Happy birthday, Kathryn, and happy memories.”

Chakotay closed his eyes. “Computer, end recording and code for anonymous delivery to Admiral Kathryn Janeway’s home on the first May twentieth, old Earth Gregorian calendar, following my death, unless otherwise directed.”

The image faded and was replaced by a static slide indicating the message’s date and source. He’d recorded it about six months ago, shortly before Starfleet had named him as the new commander of the _Livingston_. Two months before his death, but of course he hadn’t realized it would be so soon.

Blinking to keep her vision clear, Kathryn touched her fingertips to the view screen. Her voice was unsteady. “Computer, save message and store in my personal database.”

* * *

She’d visited Starfleet’s Memorial Gardens a dozen times before, but she’d never sought out this particular location. The oak tree that had been planted in the _Hawke_ ‘s memory was still young, with a thin trunk, and the ground around it still showed signs of disturbance. With time, she knew, the tree would mature into a strong, stately specimen and the ground would heal.

Strength and healing were important themes in the Memorial Gardens.

Kathryn read the plaque that briefly described the incident at Retisia VIII and listed the names of the _Hawke_ ‘s crew and passengers. Chakotay was listed near the bottom, among the passengers, although there was a short notation indicating his Starfleet rank and that he had been en route to assume command of another vessel. Her fingers traced the letters of his name and she closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said softly, wishing he could hear. “You were right.”

Bending down, she laid two of the pink roses at the base of the monument.

“Thank you for a wonderful birthday present,” she murmured. There was no trace of sarcasm or anger in her voice. “Peace and happy memories, Chakotay.”


End file.
